


The Doublet of Doubt

by Processpending



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Chubby Jaskier | Dandelion, Feeding, Geraskier, Hand Feeding, Insecurities, M/M, Smut, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Processpending/pseuds/Processpending
Summary: As Jaskier's renown has grown so has his waistline and insecurities.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 133
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case you irresponsibly clicked, this involves chubby Jaskier.  
> You've been informed. Twice.

It didn’t take long for Jaskier’s songs of his adventures with Geralt to be carried to the smallest towns and the wealthiest kingdoms and though his songs may precede him, none could perform them as well as Jaskier.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself quite the admirers tonight.” The barmaid smirks, bringing the fourth ale of the night as well as two more dinners to their table, courtesy of other patrons. 

“It’s good to see people respecting the arts.” Jaskier quips, happily sliding one of the plates closer.

“I’m also to offer you a room–” 

“ _We_ have a room, thank you.” Jaskier is quick to cut her off, his hand stretching across the table to rest on Geralt’s wrist, the woman eyeing the gesture before smiling softly.

“Aye.” She had seen too many slip off to rooms for a night offered by someone not their own. 

It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to bed Jaskier after a performance, nor was it the first time such a thing was propositioned in front of Geralt, but each time Jaskier was insistent that he had no need, no _want_ of another. 

“You are popular here.” Geralt notes after the barmaid leaves, though Jaskier doesn’t miss the slight smile at his quick refusal. It was true, this was their third night here and each night in addition to the fair bit of coin Jaskier earned, patrons sent over drinks and food enough to choke a horse. 

“Not as much as I was the first night,” Jaskier scans the room as he eats, their corner dark, just as Geralt likes it. “For the best we leave tomorrow for Cintra.” Jaskier knew it was best to leave a town still wanting rather than have them grow tired in the middle of a performance and be rained upon with molded food.

“Mmm.” Geralt watches the room over Jaskier’s shoulder, helping himself to one of the gifted ales. 

“Not going to eat?” Jaskier nudges the other plate towards Geralt, nearly finished with his own.

Geralt weighs his answer, settling on the one he believes will bring the least questions, “Hmm, no.” He punctuates it with another long swallow which seems to satisfy Jaskier who swaps his now empty plate with the full one, unaware of the golden eyes upon him with interest. 

With Jaskier singing his adventures it was easier for Geralt to press for coin, more coin when the monster he was to slay may actually be his end, Jaskier’s prowess also didn’t hurt their coin purses. Their travels aren’t as destitute as when they started together and it shows. 

Having finished his second plate, fourth of the night, Jaskier settles back in his chair, resting a hand of his stomach where it rounds out of his doublet, chemise snug over the swell. Stretching his hand out Jaskier finds his ale just out of reach, he leans forward but his full stomach protests the movement and with a soft groan he slumps back into the chair.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, hand still reaching for the cup. 

“Sure you want more?” Geralt raises an eyebrow even as he slides the ale closer, stopping just shy of Jaskier’s grasp so he’s forced to stretch. 

“Isn’t it in your Witcher code somewhere that you should never waste ale, especially _free_ ale. Or maybe that’s in the bard’s code? Wasted drink, wasted pipes.” Jaskier waves it away, huffing softly as he finally plucks the mug from the table. Geralt admires the pale column of his throat as he takes long swallows, the moment seeming to stretch on.

Geralt knows Jaskier will protest even before he starts to rise but he’s contained himself long enough and so he rises to his feet, “Come, Jaskier.” 

As expected Jaskier protests, “But there’s still ale.” Seeing he’s not swayed Geralt in the least Jaskier sighs and braces a hand on the table as he shoves to his feet, stumbling as his center of balance shifts, the ale sloshing merrily inside him. 

Geralt’s hands are familiar and steadying, golden eyes searching as Jaskier tries to play it off, flushing under the Witcher’s gaze as they both know it wasn’t the drink making him unsteady. With a bracing hand on his bloated belly, Jaskier stoops to retrieve his lute, biting back the groan that he’s sure Geralt’s _excellent_ hearing still picks up.

Once straightened Geralt slips the lute’s strap from Jaskier, sliding it onto his own shoulder before settling his arm about his bard’s waist, the man’s normal swagger hindered by his many dinners. 

“I wonder if that room was on this floor.” Jaskier muses wistfully, Geralt slowing at the words.

“I’m sure the offer still stands.” Jaskier smiles softly at the hint of jealousy he hears in his Witcher’s voice, the trepidation in his eyes that Jaskier fully intends to vanish as soon as they make it to their room.

“I imagine you’re right,” Jaskier casts a glance about the room, reassurance _after_ he has a bit of fun. “Don’t worry, I’ll sneak you in.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt’s arm had been slowly working it’s way from around Jaskier’s waist, letting the bard slip away.

“I’m sure the sight of us going at it will be enough to see her off and then we won’t have to climb these stairs.” Geralt catches on to Jaskier’s game, golden eyes narrow telling Jaskier he’s going to pay for being cheeky. They mount the stairs, Jaskier keeping one hand pressed to his stomach trying to calm the ache within while Geralt’s hand on his lower back encourages him up. 

The door hasn’t fully closed before Geralt is on Jaskier, hands slipping into the open doublet, rubbing the bowed sides of his stomach as he moves closer, squeezing the plush hips that hang over the bard’s tight pants. Geralt ducks his head, nipping Jaskier’s lip, exchanging the taste of ale on their tongues as deft hands work at the too many clothes they’re still wearing.

Geralt strips Jaskier of his doublet, the fabric joining his pants already on the floor courtesy of Jaskier’s nimble fingers, soon accompanied by his own. Jaskier’s chemise is snug, catching on the soft swell of his underbelly when Geralt tries to pull it off, the bard’s cheeks pinking in embarrassment. 

With a kiss that leaves Jaskier leaning long moments after Geralt’s pulled away the Witcher stretches out on the bed, smirking at Jaskier as he stares at the site that is Geralt, bared and _needing._

“Geralt.” Jaskier pouts, stroking a hand over his stomach, “I’m too _full_.” Jaskier watches as his words have the opposite affect, Geralt’s pupils blowing wide, his arousal twitching.

“If you’re too full mabye...” Geralt reaches down, slowly stroking himself.

“No, no, no.” Jaskier waddles toward the bed, hands cradling his belly as though it’s too heavy, teasing Geralt as he crawls across the bed, bowing his back so his stomach looks bigger. As soon as he’s close enough Geralt’s hands are on him, urging him up, exploring the new curves of Jaskier’s ever growing body. 

It’s a stretch around Jaskier’s thicker thighs but with a twist Geralt slicks his fingers with a stroke of his weeping cock before he starts working at opening Jaskier, the bard bucking into the touch. With a final suck on Geralt’s nipple Jaskier pushes himself up, Geralt’s hands on his hips, waiting for a nod from Jaskier before he sheaths himself, Jaskier’s head tipping back as Geralt’s monstrous cock slides deep within him, filling him in ways food never has.

Geralt offers a hand to Jaskier, elbow braced on the bed to provide resistance, their fingers laced together as Jaskier rolls his hips, one hand holding his belly. Jaskier tries to maintain rhythm, he really does, but he’s glutted, ale and food heavy and shifting with each movement.

Geralt pulls his hand from Jaskier’s, fear spiking in the bard as he worries he’s disappointed Geralt, that he’s finally gotten so chubby he can’t even give him a good fuck anymore but Geralt’s hands on his hips chase all doubts from Jaskier’s mind, powerful fingers digging in, a pleasurable pain as he holds Jaskier steady and pounds into him.

The feel of Geralt, body carved of muscle and dips, all hard angles, powerful hands holding him up with ease that brings Jaskier’s release, spraying his soft underbelly and across Geralt’s chest, pearly rivlets tracking down the sinewy paths.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Say it.” Jaskier demands, there’s no teasing in his tone as he continues, “We can’t go because I’ve gotten too fat to fit in my clothes.” 

Geralt gets the distinct feeling he’s not meant to hear the words Jaskier is angrily muttering to himself as he gets ready for the event that night. 

“It’s only been a _week_. How can I play if I can’t even–”

“Jaskier, we’re going to be late.” Geralt growls from where he’s been instructed to stand, Jaskier insisting that sitting will wrinkle the outfit he’d painstaking put together for him to wear. Geralt watches as Jaskier straightens his shoulders, knowing what’s coming Geralt adopts his normal bored expression as Jaskier turns and he’s presented with the problem.

Jaskier’s doublet hangs open, his stomach straining against the chemise underneath, clear there’s no hope of fastening as the doublet’s side only reach halfway up Jaskier’s sides. “Say it.” Jaskier demands, there’s no teasing in his tone as he continues, “We can’t go because I’ve gotten _too_ fat to fit in my clothes.” 

This wasn’t news to Geralt, the Witcher was intimately familiar with the planes of Jaskier’s body, the slight swell growing into a proper belly as his renown grew. It was no secret that Geralt enjoyed the gain, nipping at the sensitive underbelly and rubbing Jaskier's stomach after he'd stuffed himself, but Geralt had been secretly delaying Jaskier from buying new doublets, enjoying watching his belly swell past the sides.

“Mmm. You look fine.” The tears that had been filling Jaskier’s eyes are burned away by anger at Geralt’s words.

“Fine. _Fine_! I can’t–” Jaskier’s protest is swallowed by Geralt as he silences his bard with a kiss, his hands slipping into the open doublet, rubbing the bowed sides. 

“You _do_ look fine, Jaskier but I have one you can wear.” Geralt moves to his pack as Jaskier turns those words over in his head, producing a beautiful blue doublet the color of his eyes with gold trim and slits on the front showing peeks of white, a pair of matching blue pants follow it out. They’re stunning and it pisses Jaskier off more.

“You...you planned this!” Jaskier tries to maintain his anger as Geralt starts rubbing his belly again, working the too small doublet off as he trails kisses down his neck, ignoring Jaskier’s complaints except for a murmured, “No.” 

“What do you mean, no?” Jaskier’s protest is weaker as he pulls on the new doublet, doubt clouding his features as Geralt frowns at the fastenings that barely meet.

“Mmm, You ate more in a week than I expected.” Geralt smooths the fabric, distracted by thoughts that he should have had him put on the pants first. Jaskier’s cheeks burn, he knew his anxiety had grown as they got closer to the event, the gnawing fear tempered by an overfull stomach as Geralt’s hand soothes away more than the ache. 

“I thought you’d look good in it but if you don’t like it we can stop on the way.” Geralt offers, finally looking up, his hands resting on Jaskier’s hips, noting how the doublet rides up on the sides, the chemise underneath showing. 

“Do I? Look good?” Geralt knows his bard, there’s trepidation in his voice and tears in his eyes so he drops to his knees intending to show Jaskier just how _good_ he thinks he looks.

o~O~o

Geralt leans against a pillar, drink in hand as he watches Jaskier perform. Through the first song his voice had been tentative, his shame not fully gone but by the second song he’d found Geralt in the crowd and the difference was clear. 

Jaskier was in his element, wielding his grin and gorgeous blue eyes with such skill there was no one in the hall that wasn’t moved to join the floor. By the time Jaskier was winding down Geralt had settled himself at a corner table laden with food and ale, just waiting for his bard to finish. 

Jaskier’s performance ended with a round of applause that carried Jaskier off the stage, his broad smile making his chubby cheeks rounder. Geralt takes his time working through the crowd, the group around Jaskier ever changing, all wanting a moment with the renown bard.

“...he’s dating a Witcher.” 

“You think he would spare the coin and pay for company. Someone less…” Geralt narrows his eyes at the women clustered together, waiting for Jaskier to make his way to them.

Geralt only has eyes for Jaskier, hopes of his bard not hearing their cruel comments are dashed as Jaskier winces around his smile with the next comment, hands tugging on the sides of his doublet that insist on riding up. 

“Less is right! I thought he was going to split his clothes.” Another supplies, huffing a laugh as she scrutinizes Jaskier’s stomach. It’s inevitable for Jaskier to avoid them, though he tries, but they seem to insist on getting closer, their smiles as empty as their appreciation for his songs.

“Thank you–” Jaskier starts, intending to swiftly move on but there’s suddenly a warm arm around his waist and the familiar comforting woody scent washing over him. Jaskier turns his face up to Geralt, blue eyes clouded with doubt once more, the women’s cruel words cutting deep into the tenuous confidence there. Geralt’s never been one for public displays, having to fight off Jaskier who is handsy even when he isn’t in his cups, but Geralt can’t stand the unsurety that threatens to break his bard and so Jaskier’s smile is met by Geralt’s lips as he kisses him, flashing a predatory grin at the mouthy women before he pulls him away.

Geralt feels bad that fewer people approached Jaskier to talk with him at his side but his bard seemed quite content to remain tucked into his side as Geralt leads him through the hall and back to his table. 

“Feeling peckish are we?” Jaskier teases as Geralt moves to sit on the bench across from him, eyeing the spread of food and lack of other company. 

“You didn’t get a chance to eat before you played.” Jaskier smiles at the memory of just what had made them late. As though his stomach knew it was in the presence of food it growls, Geralt’s smirk telling Jaskier his enhanced hearing had picked it up over the din of the crowded hall. 

Geralt starts to fill the plate before him, Jaskier's surprise that the Witcher waited to eat with him but finds it sweet nonetheless until Geralt offers him the plate. _Oh._

Jaksier eats distractedly, recounting how he thinks the night went, barely noticing when Geralt refills his plate again and again, so excited at how well his performance was received. Jaskier absently watches as Geralt cuts a slice from a pie at hand, putting the piece on a plate before he sets the rest of the pie in front of Jaskier, studying the bard's features. 

Jaskier palms his belly realizing just how full he feels, the heaviness in his stomach bordering on too full, but Geralt has _that_ look and he hates to disappoint his Witcher. Jaskier gets through a fourth of the pie when he feels more than hears it, his doublet suddenly looser, the pressure on his stomach a blessed relief. 

Geralt’s head tilts to the side, eyes dropping to Jaskier’s stomach letting the bard know his hearing caught the sound of his seams ripping. Jaskier’s cheeks burn in shame as Geralt rises, fear making him sick as he thinks he’s finally done it, those women were right and there’s no reason for Geralt to stay with him. 

Jaskier doesn’t lift his eyes from the table, unable to bear the sight of Geralt walking away from him in disgust so he starts when Geralt’s voice sounds from behind him. “Turn sideways.” Jaskier’s head whips up, tears brimming his eyes as Geralt straddles the bench beside him, concern etching his face as he takes in his distraught bard. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt questions, but Jaskier’s already working at moving so he’s straddling the bench as well, hindered by his heavy stomach but soon he swings his leg over the bench as instructed. Geralt is there, pressed against Jaskier’s back, his hands rubbing the sore spot where his belly had pressed into the edge of the table. 

“If you don’t–” Geralt offers but Jaskier is shaking his head, cutting him off, “I thought _you_ didn’t…” Jaskier can’t bring himself to voice the fears, knowing all too well how life has a way of twisting words spoken. 

“Hmm,” Geralt’s hands move lower, slipping through the split seams he begins to rub the bowed sides of Jaskier’s belly, whispering in the bard’s ear, “Finish your pie, Jaskier.” 

Geralt’s words sends a shiver through Jaskier but he picks back up the pie, getting lost in the sensation of Geralt’s hands on him, soothing the ache that grows with each bite. Geralt trails kisses up Jaskier’s neck, relishing the feel of his seams tearing a little more with each bite, his chemise creeping up, revealing more and more skin heated from its fullness.

Jaskier slumps against Geralt as he takes the final bite, panting for air as his lungs fight to expand. He feels Geralt’s arousal pressing into him, smirking at the affect he has on the normally stoic Witcher.

Geralt’s hands guide Jaskier’s to his stomach, rubbing them over the sides, moving lower until they’re cradling his stomach, “Hold this.” The command is dropped in Jaskier’s ear, Geralt’s hands moving from his and moments later Jaskier feels his breeches undone, the pinch that had been plaguing him all night easing. 

Jaskier protests when Geralt plucks the plate with the slice of pie he’d cut earlier from the table and balances it on Jaskier’s stomach, “ _Finish_ your pie, Jaskier.” Geralt’s words are low, Jaskier’s breath hitching at the desire in them.

“I’m too full.” Jaskier weakly protests, though the words come out as a tease Jaskier doesn’t know how much more will fit but Geralt picks up the fork and cuts off a piece, bringing it to Jaskier’s mouth while his other hand slips back under his split doublet and resumes rubbing his stomach. 

Bite by bite Geralt feeds Jaskier the rest of the pie, pausing when hiccups assault Jaskier, his packed belly painfully jumping with each one but Geralt’s hands are there soothing the ache as Jaskier downs great gulps of water, the tears at his sides widening as his stomach swells further.

“If you want to stop.” Geralt offers as the mug Jaskier had drank from thuds loudly against the table but Jaskier’s already shaking his head no, there’s only a few bites left and he knows Geralt wants this.

“ _No_. Just…” Jaskier pants, gesturing for Geralt to continue and he feels his Witcher's excitement twitch against him, the knowledge that as soon as he finishes this pie he’ll get his own dessert spurring him on. 

With effort Jaskier works at swallowing the final mouthful, both Geralt’s hands rub his achingingly taut stomach, not even the slightest give left, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s temple when the bard’s head drops back onto his shoulder as he takes sips of air. 

Geralt lets him rest for long minutes, enjoying the feel of him so pliable and heavy in his arms, waiting until Jaskier begins shifting forward before he rises. Geralt offers Jaskier his hands, relishing the sight of Jaskier from the front, his doublet still fastened but the sides have split almost all the way to his arms, his chemise having ridden up revealing his pale lower belly, stretch marks curling over the swell. 

“Oomph.” Jaskier lets out a pained groan as Geralt pulls him to his feet, accidentally knocking his swollen stomach into Geralt but large hands are there to soothe away the pain, ducking his head Geralt nips at Jaskier’s lips, the bard breaking the kiss only because he knows if it continues any longer they’ll turn indecent in the hall and while he normally has no qualms and has _enjoyed_ Geralt in more than one dark corner, his back demands he rest his heavy stomach. 

Jaskier waddles his way for the doors, grateful Geralt chose a table at the back of the hall so he doesn’t have to parade his debauched state past all the guests. They barely make it through the doors, Jaskier biting back moans as his hips protest each step as his stomach sways before him when Geralt moves, taking him into his arms like a damsel. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelps surprised, but it’s one look at the Witcher’s eyes that’s all the answer he needs, his pupils blown in desire. Geralt was grateful Jaskier had accepted the King’s offer of staying in one of the rooms, he didn’t think he would make it if he had to wait until they were back at the inn. 

Geralt barely spares the room a glance before he's setting Jaskier down, working at the fastenings holding his doublet closed. It was a tangle of limbs and clothes as each tried to undress the other, their fervor broken only by rough kisses until finally their clothes are strewn around them on the floor.

“I want you to fill me. _Top to bottom_.” Jaskier purrs, rising up on his toes he presses a teasing kiss to Geralt’s lips, his stomach forcing Geralt a step back before Jaskier turns and waddles for the bed. “You’ll have to stand.” Jaskier sounds apologetic but it’s obvious it wouldn’t be comfortable for the bard to get on his knees, the thought it might not even be possible has Geralt’s weeping cock twitching as Jaskier beckons him closer, his stance widening as Jaskier’s stomach forces his legs apart. 

Jaskier licks up Geralt’s monstrous cock before he wrapping his lips around it and Geralt nearly comes just at that, Jaskier knowing just how to work his tongue, swirling it around his head as he swallows him down inch by inch. Geralt can’t stop himself from bucking his hips forward but Jaskier’s stomach is there, hindering the movement and before he can stop himself Geralt is coming. Jaskier just hums in pleasure, drinking down the inhuman amount of come Geralt gives him, rubbing the sides of his belly that he swears grows with each swallow as he moans low in his throat.

“Fuck, Jaskier.” Geralt growls out but Jaskier just grins as he leans back, tongue lapping at his bottom lip. Jaskier doesn’t wait, he’s already pushing himself back on the bed, turning so he’s on his hands and knees, waiting for Geralt who's admiring the sight before him.

Jaskier’s back is bowed by the weight of his stomach, his already perfect ass rounded and his hips widened from the extra weight, perfect for holding when he fucks him. “I said _top to bottom_ , Geralt.” Jaskier says, eyeing Geralt over his shoulder, wondering what was keeping him. 

Geralt is hard again at the words, Jaskier’s own weeping cock nudging his belly, come smears shining in the low light. Geralt presses himself against Jaskier, reaching around he strokes Jaskier, squeezing his hip and willing himself not to come yet when the bard grinds back into him. 

“Fuck me.” Jaskier demands as Geralt works at opening him. Geralt grips Jaskier’s hips, perfect handfuls as he buries himself to the hilt, his name tearing from Jaskier’s throat as his back arches. Geralt knows what Jaskier wants, what he’s demanded, but Geralt wants to get Jaskier off, wants to rub his seed into his stomach and watch it glisten. 

Geralt lays himself down the length of Jaskier’s back, setting a slow, deep rhythm as he works his cock, Jaskier’s pants coming faster and faster as he rocks back into Geralt, “ _Fill...me._ ” Jaskier pleads. So Geralt does, with a final thrust deep into Jaskier Geralt comes again. The feel of so much more inside him, filling him and stretching him tips Jaskier into his own release, keening Geralt’s name as his body goes rigid and then loose. 

Geralt gathers Jaskier in his arms, easing them down onto their side, still seated deep within him Geralt begins rubbing Jaskier’s stomach, blue eyes slowly blinking as a sated smile pulls at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this fic!  
> I hope you liked it and would love to hear what you think.
> 
> Comments/kudos/emojis/random outbursts encouraged and greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> And that's it for the first chapter. I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> Comments/kudos/emjois/random outbursts are greatly appreciated and highly encouraged.


End file.
